Thursday, April 18, 2019

The awkward column

I've written a couple of these before, and I have to say, they're some of my favorite blog posts to write. Basically, this (and past ones) are a summary of small awkward moments that aren't substantial enough to be their own blog post, but definitely deserve to be written about.Poncho the Punk

I love my dog, Poncho. I really do. And he is a pain in the patootie
sometimes. Most the time. All the time. And I love him. Except when he pee’s
inside, which (for reason’s the vet and I still can’t pinpoint why) happens
quite often.

One night, I was having a game night with some friends. I
took Poncho out at his scheduled nighttime pee. After I got back to the apartment, I let him off the leash
and, for reasons I STILL DON’T KNOW, he ran to my bedroom and peed on my desk.

Annoyed and discouraged, I yelled at him, leashed him back
up and dragged him outside so he could pee again. Anger was instantly added to my annoyance and discouragement when I saw that it was snowing AND IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE SPRINGTIME.

As I walked Poncho down the sidewalk, I spotted a woman
walking her short, fat dog towards us. Poncho, who demands all males to submit
to him, began yanking hard on the leash. I restrained him, and moved to the snowy
grass so as to avoid the fat dog, who was growling and yapping at Poncho.

The snow was slick, and Poncho became more and more
difficult to resist. Then, he did his strongest yank yet, and I slid, falling
into the snowy grass on my back.

At this point, defeat overwhelmed me, and I just sat there,
lying still on my back, small tears trickling down my cheeks, as snow fell on my face and Poncho yanked on
the leash, continuing to attempt to charge towards the dog.

The woman was making no effort to restrain her dog or walk
it away from us, so I knew I had to get up and face my defeat.

That's exactly what I did. The woman stood there, staring at me, her fat dog yapping at us as I stood up, yanked Poncho with bitterness back towards my apartment, where I walked inside with a sad look on my face and said, "He pulled me into the snoooowwww."

The Golden State Killer podcast

Fun fact about me: I love serial killer podcasts. And books.
And documentaries. Really, anything to do with true crime, I’m obsessed with.

So when my friend told me about a five part podcast all
about the Golden State Killer? Oh man, I was all over that.

I began listening to it at work. Now, fun fact: the Golden
State Killer would often call the phone numbers of his victims and torment them
by saying stuff like, “I’m gonna kill you” and other scary, awful things.

Each podcast began with those creepy whispers of the Golden
State Killer over the phone.

One day, I couldn’t hear the podcast after I pressed ‘play’
on my phone. I checked the screen. Sure enough, it was playing, so I turned the volume up on my phone.

“I’m gonna kiiiiill
you….”

And that's when I realized, my headphones weren't plugged in.

“Oh, come on.”

I put my thumb on my phone for a fingerprint recognition so I could pause it. My
phone rejected it.

You: wHy DiDnT yOu JuSt PlUg In YoUr HeAdPhOnEs?!

I DON'T KNOW, OKAY?!

The podcast continued on.

“I’m gonna kiiiiiill
you…”

I replaced my thumb for a second try. Once again, my phone
rejected it.

*Heavy breathing

“Okay, you know what?! You need to chill.”

By now, my nearby coworkers were eying me curiously.

“You’re going to
diiiiiiiie…”

I typed in my passcode while mumbling, “Oh, shut up.”

And I quickly paused the podcast. My coworkers were still
eyeing me. I plugged my headphones in and said, “Podcast. Nobody’s gonna
actually die here.”

And we turned back to our work.

The bomb threat

Speaking of work, there was a day a few months ago when someone emailed (or called??) in a bomb threat to a BUNCH of businesses, saying that there was a bomb in the building and they'd blow it up unless they transferred X amount of bitcoins to them.

One of the businesses that shares the same building as the company I work for was fortunate to receive this threat.

News spread fast, and the next thing I know, all my coworkers are rushing out of the building.

I swung my purse over my shoulder and said, "Well, I mean, if it goes off before we leave the building, it'll at least be a fast death."

My boss — who walked by right as I said that — looked at me with a mix of fear over what was happening and horror over what I just said.

I shrugged.

"I'm not wrong."

FYI, the threat was fake and we went back inside 45 minutes later.

Greatest fear

Okay, so for about six months, I taught a Sunday School class
once a month at church. Also once a month, all the Sunday School teachers would have a meeting
together and discuss ways to improve our teaching, techniques we
found that worked, etc.

All the teachers sat in a circle facing inward. The guy in
charge stood up and said, “Okay, well, I think some of us are new here. Why don’t
we go around and introduce ourselves? Say your name, your major and . . . let’s
go with your greatest fear. Carmen, you first.”

He motioned towards me as he sat down, and I sat there, unsure
of what to say. You see, I know exactly
what my greatest fear is, but I wasn’t sure if I should actually share it.

“Okay, well, what kind of ‘greatest fear’ are we talking
about, here?” I asked. “Because, like, I have a serious fears, but then I have
not serious fears, and I don’t know which one we’re saying.”

Silence.

“Cause, like, I could say that my greatest fear in life are zombies,
but I know they aren’t real,” I said, sputtering over my words. “But really, I have a
massive fear of getting kidnapped, raped and forced into human trafficking. So,
like, which greatest fear are we sharing? Zombies, or kidnapped, raped, human
trafficking?”

Silence.

“Okay, well, I guess my greatest fear is being kidnapped,
raped and forced into human trafficking,” I said to the silent crowd. “Oh, I’m
Carmen by the way. Communications major.”

I flashed a peace sign, then looked at the kid next to me,
thrilled to turn the attention to someone else.

The next guy introduced himself and
stated his major, then put his hands in his lap and solemnly bowed his head
with a sad look on his face as he said, “I’m worried I won’t go to heaven.”

I did one of my best and biggest eye rolls and muttered to
myself, “Oh brother.”

“Hi, I’m Josh. I’m an engineering major and . . . I’d have
to go with vampires. Vampires are my greatest fear.”

“THOSE AREN’T EVEN REAL!” I shouted, getting defensive, as I
usually do when I feel dumb.

One by one, each teacher went by and said their stupid fear.
I heard spiders, the dark and other cliche', small fears. At one point I even shouted, “Okay,
you guys have to say you actual fears
like I did. This ain’t fair.”

“I’m scared of not graduating!” piped up one kid.

“. . . okay, fine. I’ll give you that.”

Just then, a girl walked quickly through the door, holding a
binder and looking disheveled.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” she said. “I was organizing another
meeting. What did I miss?”

“We’re going around and introducing yourselves. Say your
name, major and greatest fear.”

The girl took a seat and organized herself while saying, “I’m
Annie. Psychology major. My greatest fear is that my husband will pass away,
and I won’t be able to care for my family.”

She looked up, and I could see the horror on her face that she
had just shared that.

“Oh — I’m sorry, I know that’s kind of serious, but . . .”

“No, thank you!” I said. “I said my greatest fear was being
kidnapped, raped and forced into human
trafficking, then all these losers were
like ‘uh, vampires.’ So, THANK YOU.”

I reached my hand out for a high-five, which she hesitantly returned.

The time I got mistaken as Jesus
Ah, now, this is one of my favorite moments.

This was while in Rwanda on my study abroad. Two friends of mine walked with me to go buy some water bottles at a nearby store. It was getting pretty dark out by the time we started to head back.

As we neared the dorms we were staying at, a group of about six drunk men came waltzing by.

Out of habit, I took a large step away from them and hid behind my two guy friends that were accompanying me. I'd only ever had scary experiences with groups of drunk men.

I breathed a sigh of relief as they walked by without acknowledging me . . . until one stopped, pointed at me and said, "Jesus."

The three of us halted abruptly.

"Jesus," he repeated, pointing at me and then pounding his chest. "Jesus."

"Jesus," said one of my friends, nodding.

The drunk guy beamed with delight, came in towards my friend and embraced him in a massive hug while saying (you guessed it), "Jesus."

He turned to my next friend and did the same action. Then, he turned towards me. He moved towards me, arms outstretched for a hug . . . which I intercepted by stepping to the side and grabbing his hand to shake instead.

"Jesus," I said.

"GOD BLESS!" he yelled.

He then turned back to the guys who were with me. He pounded his chest, said "Jesus," then pounded my friends chest. He repeated this with my other friend . . . then turned to me. He pounded his chest saying, "Jesus." Then he hand stretched out towards my chest . . .

and I stepped to the side, grabbed his hand and shook it.

Eventually we got the man to leave. We pointed out that his friends were leaving him behind, to which he responded saying, "Ah, friends, yes." He pointed to me and said, "Jesus," then walked away to his friends, continuing to say, "God bless" and "Jesus" along the way.

My friends and I began walking slowly towards our dorm again. There was silence between all of us until I finally blurted out, ". . . What just happened?!"